


Take Me Home

by Monkeygirl77



Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [20]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunkenness, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, He goes to no one else, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Its not a happy beginning, Little Josh cries, Little Josh deserves the world, Little Josh is back people, Little Josh just has the worst luck, Parental Raphael, Physical Abuse, Protective Raphael, Raphael is keeping him this time, Taken from one abusive home, and given to another, but it does have a sweet ending, full on sobs, gut wrenching sobs, its so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77
Summary: Little Josh stayed with the Angels for a month, before they found him a new home, a loving young couple, who promised to love the child as their own, and they did, they treated him so well, they loved him so much. There was no more hitting, no more screaming, no more tears, no more pain, no more fear, none of it.Until the father lost his job.
Relationships: Raphael & OC (Supernatural)
Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128185
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Take Me Home

_He looks up at the soft footsteps that echo in the silent room, echoing over the sound of even breaths and soft snoring, away from the charts he’d been working on, as the younger angel approaches him from down the aisle._

_He smiles to her in greeting, crossing his arms, as he leans over the edge of his desk, smiling to her in greeting. “What brings you here, Ariel, are you alright?”_

_Ariel looks up at him with wide frightened eyes, wringing her fingers together, something clearly weighing heavily on her mind, her fright and nervousness has him set on edge, preparing himself for anything, looking her over carefully, as though looking for blemish or injury._

_“Brother, I need your help.”_

_He frowns in concern. “With what, little sister?”_

_“It’s that boy, the one you found in that church and brought back, the one you gave to a new home.” She swallows thickly. “He needs help, more then I can offer, and I’m afraid he would not respond to me, not as he’d surely respond to you, if I were to interfere.”_

_“Little Josh?” He leans forward, his eyes alight with emotion, something heavy in his voice at the thought that something was wrong with the small child that had wormed his way into his heart, his boy, the one who he’d given away to ones he had come to trust. “Tell me what’s going on, little sister.”_

_…_

His grace was boiling, a storm brewing over the Pacific, a hurricane, it would be a nasty one, one for the ages. He felt as though he were about to explode, deconstruct this this house entirely, rain divine justice down on the occupants. How _dare_ they betray him in such a way. He had left the child, so close to his heart, in their care because of their undying love, and deep understanding. They had welcomed the boy with open arms, promising to love him as though he were their own, and he had reluctantly let his little one go, with a last warm hug and a kiss on the head. The little boy that had already felt so much pain, knew how to survive in ways he shouldn’t have had to know, who knew pain more then most did, who knew fear as though it was an old friend, who had needed a home that would care for and love him.

They had been a loving couple, Brad and Angela Williams, a young couple, but wholesome. They had watched them for some time, religious, devout Catholics, clearly in love with one another, deeply and wholly, with all their hearts, and they loved every child they took into their temporary home with all their hearts, trying to make their temporary stay as comforting and nice as it could be.

But then, the father had lost his job, he started to drink, and when he drank, he became angry. His anger turned first onto his wife, young and beautiful, and she began to hide the bruises with long sleeves, sunglasses, and concealer. He watched as the man ran after his wife, yelling and screaming, into their master bedroom, throwing anything he could get his hands on at her. He stood at her side, out of their sight, as she cowered under his raging fists, observing the drunken rage that shone in what had once been such loving and kind eyes.

She took the brunt of it, bless her poor pure heart, so long as he left their child alone. He took the arrangement willingly, leaving their child be, as she screamed from every blow, every strike, all the abuse she suffered through, for the sake of their child’s protection.

Soon, though, he grew bored with her, and despite her pleading, despite her begging, tugging at his arms, pleading and begging, turned to the child in their care. There was only one child, a small boy of six years old, who had just managed to find his smile again, to trust others, familiar and close to his heart.

His little mouse.

His own anger grew, as the father struck the little one across the face, hard enough to send him careening around, to the floor under him, tears came to his horrified eyes near instantly, looking up at the man he that had once been so nice to him, with fear and terror. His temper raged as he watched him strike the child, again and again, ignoring the cries, the begging for him to stop, asking what he had done, why he was so mad at him.

The Archangel watched from the metaphysical dimension as the boy walked to school ever day, after fighting his war within his own home, wearing the same clothing he had worn the day before, and a purpling bruise under his eye. He was stricken when the boy’s teachers saw the evidence with their own eyes, clearly plain in view, and turned the other cheek, preferring to mind their own business, then to open that can of worms, and turned a blind eye to the visible marks left behind from a hateful drunk father.

He’d taken him from one and delivered him to another.

He stood by as the mother ushered the boy behind the couch, urging him to hide, to be as silent as a mouse, not even a small peep, small quite breaths, not a sound at all, and the boy nodded in fright, eyes wide and alert, ducking quickly behind the piece of furniture when the footsteps grew closer and closer.

The boy cowered, huddled in a small ball behind the couch, little hand curled around his mouth to keep from crying or breathing too loud, to be as silent as a church mouse, little shaking hands pressing tightly to his little ears, as his adoptive mother screamed from the torturous, inebriated rage.

And, as the father pulled out a knife, aiming for his wife, first, bellowing about how he’d find that child and teach him his place, he finally stepped in, snapping his fingers, silence filled the room, everything freezing in place, the mother cowering against the front of the couch, the father above her, knife clutched in his hand, the hands of the clocks freezing in place, everything, everything in the room, frozen.

…

Stepping forward, he pulled the knife from the man’s grip, placing it on a couch cushion, and crossed around to the side of the couch, he knelt before the crevice between the wall, and the back of the couch.

“Little mouse?” He calls out, and paused, to listen for any sign of movement. “Do you remember me?”

There was a soft intake of a breath, a small inhale, perhaps a slight shuffle, and slowly small, frightened blue eyes peeked out at him from behind the couch. “R—Rapha?”

The Healer smiles. “Hello, little one.” He holds his hands out gently. “Come out?”

The child whimpers softly, and it breaks his heart, as he bites his lip. “Is—Is it safe?”

Raphael nods. “It’s safe. No more harm shall come to you.”

Those frightened blue eyes stare at him. “You promise, Rapha?”

“Have I ever lied to you, little Josh?” He tilts his head slightly. “Do friends lie to each other?”

The little boy shakes his head. “No.” He fell silent for a moment, as though to listen, making sure there was no traps waiting for him, and slowly, he uncurls from himself and his ball, crawling out from his hiding spot behind the couch.

The Archangel watches and waits patiently, a tad sadly, ashamed of himself, as the boy crawled himself free, and slowly climbed to his feet. Stumbling forward, he fell into the Archangel’s open arms, and he wrapped them around the boy tightly, protectively, curling an arm under his bottom, as he stood back to his full height, straightening once more.

Raphael rubbed at the child’s back as his shoulders quaked, frowning sadly, with concern, as not a sound was made, the only indication to the child’s silent sobs being the quaking of his small shoulders, and he curls a hand tenderly around the back of the boy’s head. “Cry, little Josh.” And returned to rubbing his back once more. “It’s alright.” His boy pulls away from him, to look him in the eyes, and he nods. “It’s okay, little one, it’s okay to cry.”

A single tear trickled down his cheek, from his bright blue eyes, followed by another one, and another, until soon enough, a steady stream of salty tears flowed their way down his pale cheeks, releasing the sadness and the sorrow that had been held inside of him for so long, for all this time, but still, they remained silent, not a single peep made.

The Archangel reaches up to curl a hand around the child’s cheek. “It’s alright now, little one, you can cry, go ahead, it’s alright.”

More tears welled in those bright blue eyes, and the tip of his nose grew a bright cherry red, his face heating up from the breath being held so tightly, and the most broken of sobs escaped him before he could stop it, and after the first one, came another, and a third after that, until the boy’s face screwed up and the dam opened, sobs thundering from his small shaking chest, small chest heaving from the force of them. He guides the child back down, hiding him against his shoulder, rubbing at his back soothingly, as months of pain and sorrow finally broke free.

Ariel had been right in coming to him. This was a personal matter. Anything involving this child was a personal matter.

Josh sobbed into his shoulder unceasingly, fingers clutching at his shirt, hanging on as though his life depended on it, and perhaps, to him, it did. He held him in silence, rocking him slowly, rubbing at his back soothingly, as his tears soaked into his shoulder. A tiny lapse let him pull away, blinking eyelashes, heavy with tears, before he collapsed again, his howls of misery worsening. The pain must have come in waves, minutes of sobbing, broken apart by shot pauses for recovering one’s breath, before hurling him back into the outstretched arms of his grief.

All that progress they had made with him through their time together, broken so suddenly, lost so quickly, at the hands of a man who had sworn to love him as his own.

He rubs at his back, small soothing circles, swaying softly from side to side, as his shoulders heaved. “That’s it, little mouse, let it out, that’s it.”

Josh sucks in a deep shaky breath. “W—What d—did I—I doo!” A sob interrupts him. “W—Why is heeee so—so ma—mad at meee!”

“You did _nothing_ wrong, little one, absolutely nothing.” He curls his fingers around his warm tear-soaked cheek, the sobs slowly lessening, the quaking of his small shoulders slowly coming to a standstill. “You are _perfect_ in _every_ way.”

The boy pushed away from his shoulder, leaning back against his arms, now, red, tear stained eyes stared back at him, with watery streaks painting down his freckled face. The Archangel smiles gently, smoothing back his now chaotic curls, wiping away the tear tracks from his cheeks, blotchy and red from his harsh cries. His whole face was now washed in a dull red hue, including the tip of his little nose, and his guardian, his friend, leaned forward to press his lips to the tip of his small warm nose for a moment, and despite all the pain and the sorrow, Josh gave him a small watery giggle.

Josh took a deep breath, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand, and looked to him in fear. “Are you going to leave me here?”

“I am taking you with me.” He shakes his head in assurance. “And, I am _never_ letting you go again.”

The child sniffles softly. “I can stay with you?”

“After this,” Raphael turns to survey the damage that had been done. “I would trust you in the care of no one else.”

Michael be damned, Father be damned, though he doubted there would be any objections, both were quite fond of the boy, it was hard not to be, the boy was _his_.

His little one looks down to his frozen mother. “What about Angela?”

The Archangel turns to look down at the battered and bruised woman, the one that had done everything in her power to protect her child, holding on to her promise unceasingly, and he hums softly. “She will be helped by the human healers.”

Josh sniffles again. “What if Brad wakes up first though?”

Raphael shakes his head slightly. “They would wake at the same time. There are authorities at the door. They will intervene before anything can become from this.”

“The cops?”

“Yes,” he smiles at him gently. “The police.”

Little Josh stares at him for a moment, eyes still alit with fear, leaning forward, he curls his arms around the Archangel’s neck. “You promise, I can stay with you this time?” His abused body presses against the Archangel’s chest. “You’re not lyin?”

The Healer smiles lightly, tilting his head. “Have I ever lied to you before?”

“No.” The child shakes his head.

He leans forward to press their foreheads together. “I wouldn’t start now. You are mine. I am giving you to no one else. I will take care of you now.”

Joshua smiles, brushing their noses together. “Can I get my bear, first?”

His Archangel Guardian nods, turning on his heel, carrying them up the stairs, and up they went, he knew where the boy’s bedroom was, the place of so much pain and fear, and walked them through the doorway into the bedroom. There upon the bed, sat an emerald green stuffed bear, and refusing to set the child down, he moved him around to perch on his hip, as he leaned over to get him his stuffed bear.

Smiling, he turns, handing him his beloved stuffed toy, watching fondly as the boy curled it tightly to his chest.

Stroking a finger down his nose, for his attention, Josh looks up at him, and he smiles. “Are you ready?”

Josh nods silently, clutching his stuffed bear tightly, as he laid his head down on his friends shoulder. “Ready.”

The Archangel nods, raises his hand, and snaps his fingers.

…

They stayed just long enough to watch the Williams's wake up from their trance induced slumber, as the authorities broke through the door, just as the father lifted the knife above his head, the mother screaming under him, and he was tazed into submission. They stayed long enough to watch a female officer drape a blanket over the young mother's shoulders, asking if there was anyone else in the house, and investigated the area behind the couch when she turned to look at it.

Angela breathed a sigh of relief when they found it empty.

…

"First, we will get you cleaned up." The Archangel walked swiftly up the stairs to his Infirmary, walking back into the sounds of soft even breaths and slight snoring, and strode down the main aisle. "Then, we will get you into something clean." He stopped, turning to look at his little charge, his head still cushioned on his shoulder. "And then, we will tend to any injuries you may have." Joshua smiled up to his Archangel and nodded silently, Raphael returned the smile and held a hand out, gesturing for the bear his young charge clutched to so tightly. "Why don't we leave bear out here, so he doesn't get wet?"

He seemed reluctant, but passed him his beloved stuffed bear, it had been a gift from them when they had found him the family to be given to. Michael would lose his mind knowing what had happened with the family he had been the one to find that was suitable enough for them to give their little friend to.

"He will wait here for us."

Setting the bear on the desk he had left some weeks ago, the charts sitting just where he had left them, he nods as he turns to continue their way down the main aisle to the vast cave in the stony Infirmary. The washroom of the Infirmary glowed with illuminous stones, the stone flooring curved inwards into a pool of water, under a gentle flowing waterfall, water falling over large rocks into the pool below.

Joshua curls his fingers into the leg of his trousers when he bent to set him on his feet. He set a hand on his head as he turned to the stone counter carved into the rock wall. "Mint or Lavender?"

"Mint."

"Mint, it is."

He held the soap out for the boy to take, and his little fingers curled around it to lift from his hand, the Archangel knelt before him. "I'm going to fetch you something new to wear and a warm towel, you get washed up, do you remember Oren?"

Joshua nods silently.

Raphael smiles, turning to point to the doorway they had just walked through, before looking back at the boy. "He's seated just outside the door. If you need _anything_ just call for him, alright?"

The child nods again, and he pat him on the cheek fondly before standing, nodding to himself, he turned and left the washroom for what he needed. The boy watched him go silently and looked down to the soap he held in his hand, for the first time since Brad had lost his job, he smiled.

Stripping out of his clothes, he poked a few fresh bruises on his belly, and shivered at the ache it brought.

He just finished up when his Archangel friend returned, turning to look up at him when he knelt behind him, a large towel draped over his arm. "Is everything alright, little one?"

Joshua nodded, pushing himself to his feet, and held his arms up for him. Wrapping his boy warmly in the towel, he lifted him back into his arms, curling the free edge of the towel up over his soaked head.

The child shivered a bit. "It's cold."

His archangel smiled. "It is, isn't it?” He turns them around. “Let's get you into something warm before you catch yourself a chill."

Joshua hid down in the archangels shoulder, held so gently in his arms, nothing but a large bundle of towel, peeking out at Oren as they passed him, from where he sat leaning against the wall just on the outer side of the washroom. The healer raised an eyebrow at his ducking away, but waved none the less, giving him a smile in greeting.

Raphael pats his back. "He asks about you often."

"I like him. He's fun."

"It'll make his day when he learns that."

He set the child down on a soft bed, just before the desk his bear sat on, and his bear was passed to him when he turned and pointed at it. Brushing his hair with the towel that looped up over his head, he pulled it down to caress both cheeks. "Let's get you dressed."

Joshua nods, standing on the bed when the Healer held out little trousers for him to step into, he pulled them up around his waist and tied them securely in place. Pulling the towel away to drape it over the metal end of the bed, the Healer frowned and brushed his fingers over the bruises that littered his boy's front, counting them all as failures he had made. "Oh, little Joshua, I am so sorry." He looked up to meet the little one's eyes. "I should never have let you go."

"It's okay, Rapha, doesn't even hurt."

"The way you flinch when I do this," he pressed a finger against one of the many violet bruises. "Proves otherwise." He pulled the little tunic over the boy's head. "We will show this belly the love it deserves when they begin to fade."

Raphael started slightly when a little body surged against his, little arms curling around him as best as they could manage, as a head of damp hair pressed against his chest, he recovered soon enough and curled his arms around him in return. "Thanks for coming, Rapha."

He sighs fondly, rubbing his right hand down the back of the damp head softly, and tightened his embrace for just a moment of time. "I promised to always come for you. I always will."

The Healer kisses the damp hair and pulls the blankets back. "Now, under there with you." Joshua gave a soft giggle, pulling away from his Archangel guardian's chest, climbing under the blankets and lays back against the pillow, he smiles up at the Archangel. "You'll sleep here for the night. Then you'll come stay with me at the Villa." The child nodded, hugging his bear close to his chest, and cuddled down into the pillow under his head. He was safe at long last, he knew Rapha, soft and gentle and understanding and playful, he knew that Rapha would never turn into Brad. He could sleep without fear of being woken up harshly.

His Archangel brushed his hair back. "My desk is right behind you. If you need me just call, alright?"

Little Josh nods, yawning softly, and snuggles down in the familiar blankets. Surrounded by familiar sights. Familiar faces. He was safe here.

The Healer's large hand stroked down the side of his face before he stood, leaving him to sleep in the bed, the chair behind him creaking as it was sat in. Papers softly shuffling as they were sifted through and moved about. The soft scratching of a quill pen writing over aged parchment.

Josh looked around the grand darkened room, spacious, and full of sleeping bodies. There were familiar faces around him. He saw Constantine and Zed. Healers who he had played with before. Oren stood from his chair to walk around the rows of beds. Ephraim was at a desk farther off writing in his own charts, for his own patients. Akriel was helping someone take a drink. Zaveriel was sleeping, leaning back in a chair, ankles crossed up on his desk, as his patients slept with him. He knew these faces, they were all good, he knew none of them would hurt him. They wouldn't yell, they wouldn't hit, they wouldn't be angry without telling him why.

They always told him why when they got mad at him, and still, they never hit him, not like daddy and Brad had.

Josh yawns again, cuddling closer to his bear, and lets his eyes slowly slide shut.

He did miss Angela.

But he was finally home.

…

The others smile at the childlike laughter ringing through the vast Infirmary, something they hadn’t known they’d missed, until they got it back, turning to spy a glance at the two of them. Their Archangel adored the child, and he adored their Archangel just as much in return, two souls destined for each other.

Raphael holds the small child above his head, the little one giggling wildly, they whisper to each other, and the boy shakes his head, topless in the warm weather, squealing softly when his Archangel friend lowers him, blowing playfully into his chubby belly, they’d been at this for nearly five minutes, and no one had the nerve to interrupt the sweet playful moment between the two of them.

The Archangel and his Virtues were the only ones who could hold the boy, touch him, for he’d break down into frightened tears if anyone else did, but they still played with him, playing hide and seek when they weren’t too busy, he was skittish again, like he had been when he’d first come all those months ago, but was warming up to them all much faster then he had the first time around.

Little Josh says something, what it is, they don’t know, but their Archangel raises an eyebrow, making a face as he says something in return, and lowers him, blowing into his belly again, and the child squeals brightly, little hands pushing at the Archangel’s head.

They turn to look, when Akriel calls out, holding his hands out, and Raphael smiles, tossing the boy over to his awaiting Virtue. The child shrieks midair, waving his arms around, and huffs when the mental specialist catches him, giggling as he’s swooped up, and the Virtue buries his face in his belly, making him squeal as he shakes his head, rubbing his beard in.

The other healers smile to each other, turning to return to their duties, listening to the sounds of the child’s bright laughter above the chatter of the others going about their duties.

…

The little one had moments, moments of solemn silence, as he remembered a vivid memory, flinching away from the kind touches of the others, and shying back to the Healer’s side, little fingers curled in his pant leg or around the belt around his waist, it was never taken in offense, Raphael was the one who had taken him from that horrid place, that frightening situation, so it was only natural for him to be the one the youth would retreat to during those moments.

He’d sit on the Archangel’s knee as he tended to a patient, not inhibited with the small body between his arms, curls brushing over his neck from the head tucked in his shoulder.

Raphael would cradle him in his arms as he made his rounds through the beds, checking in on patients, humming softly under his breath, lulling the sweet child to sleep, and, still carrying him after he had, to be sure he knew he was safe while he slept, and that he was there when he woke up.

The progress that had been lost at the hands of someone who had sworn to love him was mended, the progress taking long strides, the boy opening up to the rest of them. Riding around on their shoulders and their backs as they worked, helping them tend to patients under their care, sitting on their laps as they read through their charts.

Little Josh had learned to trust again, learned to open his heart for others, and thrived under their care.


End file.
